


Something Missing and then Found

by I am not sure I like this show (thisisnotanendorsement)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8927545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisnotanendorsement/pseuds/I%20am%20not%20sure%20I%20like%20this%20show
Summary: It may not seem that important, but it is to Mon-El.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I worked an awful schedule today, and I'm feeling sicker than I was, so while I'd like to be able to do updates, my brain wouldn't go there.
> 
> I did this instead, and I think it shows just how much I'm out of it. I had the hardest time finding an ending, too.

* * *

Kara went over to the door, afraid if the pounding got any more frantic that it would come right off its hinges. Hearing Mon-El on the other side of it, she knew that wasn't too far from happening. Not that he'd intend to, but he could do it easily with his enhanced strength. She pulled her door open just in time to save it from another hit.

“It's gone,” Mon-El said as he came into her apartment. He started pacing in agitation, making her fear for her floor now. “I've looked all over my apartment, all over the DEO... it's gone.”

“What's gone?” Kara asked with a frown, not sure what he could be missing that would cause him that much distress. He didn't have much to be distressed over, and while she knew that in itself could be upsetting, it had never bothered Mon-El before now. “Is this something on television, like last time when you didn't understand the season break thing and were mad because you couldn't watch new episodes until next year?”

“No,” Mon-El said. “And that is still a stupid way of running programming. It would never work on Daxam.”

She shrugged. She didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. At least that question had gotten him to stop wearing a hole in her floor. “What are you looking for, then?”

“My shirt.”

Kara stared at him. This was about a shirt? “You came all the way here because you lost a shirt?”

“Yes.” Mon-El ran a hand over his face. “I don't have that much stuff. I was able to put everything from the DEO in one box. It shouldn't be missing.”

“Did you actually use the laundry downstairs?”

“No, but I checked there anyway after what you said about disappearing socks,” Mon-El said, and she nodded. “It's not there. It's not anywhere.”

“I know you haven't gotten your first paycheck yet, and most of that will go to rent, but we can get you another shirt.”

“I don't _want_ another shirt,” Mon-El said. “I want _that_ shirt.”

Kara shook her head. “It's just a shirt. They can be replaced—”

“It's not just a shirt. It's my shirt. Not one someone gave to me, but mine,” Mon-El said, starting to pace again. “I didn't have to earn anything to buy it. I had it. It was mine. I want it back.”

“Mon-El—”

“I know you'll say that it's not that important, that I can just get another, but I actually _can't,”_ he said, shaking his head. “It's made out of silk from a species that is extinct now. There will never be another shirt like that one. It can't be replaced—”

“Mon-El—”

“And I know that it shouldn't matter, but it's all I have left of Daxam,” Mon-El said, sounding pained. “I have to find it, Kara. I know it's stupid, but it's... I don't have anything else. There's no fortress of solitude or hologram of my mother...”

Kara went to him, putting a hand on his arm and making him stop and look at her. When he did, he stared, mouth hanging open.

“I...” Mon-El closed his mouth, swallowed, and shook his head to clear it. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

She fingered the fabric, wanting to lie about her reason for having it. She'd found it at the DEO after he moved into his apartment, and she had brought it home with her. She'd thought she intended to give it back to him, but she ended up in it instead. “It smelled like you.”

“That... sounds very wrong,” Mon-El said, biting his lip. “Is this... an earth custom I didn't know about?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Are you going to make me giggle it?”

“Google it,” she corrected, and she wanted to, but that would only make things worse. “Sometimes we wear the clothes of the people we care about to feel close to them even when they're not with us.”

“I don't think any of your clothes would fit me,” he said. Then he frowned again. “Wait, are you saying you... care about me?”

She wanted to say it was just about the shirt and how it felt because it was insanely comfortable and wonderful, but she knew that was a lie, and it wasn't fair to him. “Yes, Mon-El, I care about you.”

He smiled at her. “It... it actually looks good on you. Though I think you might be able to look good in almost anything.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing. “I'm sorry I made you think you'd lost it. I was going to give it back, and then I tried it on and it felt right to keep it on and—”

He kissed her, and all of her other excuses went out of her head. She shouldn't do this, she knew better, and hadn't she messed up things good by thinking this was what she wanted with James? Still, she didn't want Mon-El to stop.

He did, though, and she looked at him, wondering how they'd try and pretend that never happened, but then he said, “I'm glad you stole my shirt.”

“I did not steal it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn't.”

“You did,” Mon-El insisted. “You, Kara Zor-El, are a thief.”

“I am not a thief.”

“You are, because it wasn't just my shirt you stole.”


End file.
